


How To Face Your Past

by KatHarkness_Katara



Series: Three's Company 2 [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-03-19 22:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18979480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatHarkness_Katara/pseuds/KatHarkness_Katara
Summary: Q has been interfering in MI6 affairs for a while now - it's time to pay the piper. But he's not the only one with something in his past...





	1. Chapter 1

** How to Face Your Past **

** Chapter 1 **

 

Q folded his hands nervously as he waited to be admitted. James and Alec were away; a weekend survival hike in the Lake District. He was sure their absence was the reason for him being summoned _now_.

Now, when his devoted agents weren’t here to stand up for him.

There was a buzz on the secretary’s phone, and she picked it up, spoke a few words, and put it down again. “M will see you now,” she told Q.

Q nodded, stood, tried to thank her, swallowed, and gave up. He knocked on M’s door, before going in. “You wanted to see me, Ma’am?” he asked.

M had a desk with a computer, a mass of paperwork, and a bulldog nodding-dog novelty painted as though wearing a Union Flag. Last time Q had been in this room, he had been too nervous and feline to notice much. He was only marginally less nervous now.

M stood, and gestured to one of the seats opposite. “Please sit, Mr Boothroyd. Would you like a drink? I have a fine bourbon, that I believe Mr Bond very much approves of.”

“No thank you, Ma’am,” Q croaked. “I don’t drink. Blackouts.”

M poured herself a drink and returned to her desk. “A most sensible attitude. Tea?”

Q smiled, and nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“That’s what secretaries are for,” M smiled, tapping the intercom. She ordered tea for two, not asking Q before choosing Earl Grey. Of course, as a highly talented telepath, she probably didn’t need to ask any questions at all, because Q’s every thought was open to her, and nothing he could do could keep her out-

“Sometimes, I wish my agents didn’t drink,” M’s voice cut across Q’s rising panic, derailing his thoughts. “They can get in terrible trouble, and of course they can never tell when they’re going to need a clear head for driving or some such. But it would be terribly suspicious in most circles to not drink, or not be able to hold it. Can you imagine trying to infiltrate the Russian Mafia if you choke on every mouthful of vodka? So we have to train our agents to hold their liquor, or else concoct a watertight reason to avoid it.”

Q breathed deeply, trying desperately to push away his unease. “I’m sure some agents take to drink like fish to water,” he tried to joke.

M pulled a face. “Uncontrollable substance abuse issues is an automatic field suspension. If the issue is unresolved, they’re into custody. Nearly twenty years ago, a very highly cleared agent ended up addicted to heroin, and sold out a lot of secrets their next fix.”

Q grimaced. The thought of that happening to James or Alec was horrifying. Then the secretary brought in a tea tray, and M served them both.

“Now, business,” M started. “Mr Boothroyd. It is becoming increasingly apparent that you are not only receiving a steady stream of classified information, but are continuing to interfere in MI6 affairs, and also have been hacking into our computer systems.”

Q turned pink. He stared into the depths of his cup. “I’m not doing any harm,” he mumbled. “I was just trying to help James and Alec.”

“And if I didn’t believe that, we’d be having this conversation in a holding cell,” M commented. “Regardless, this state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue.”

Q flinched. “Please don’t make me leave James and Alec,” he whispered.

“That’s not what I had in mind, no,” M reassured him. “We’ve been looking into you. You’re on your third known alias; do my agents know that?” Q stayed silent. “So, which do you prefer? Peter Llewellyn, Desmond Burton, or Quincy Boothroyd?”

Q sat up straighter. “I prefer Q.”

M nodded. “Did you successfully hack into MI6 before you turned 15?”

Q jerked. “Wha- how?”

“That’s a yes,” M remarked. “You signed your own deed poll when you turned 16, and chose the same surname as our Quartermaster, and first name that abbreviates to his code name. Of course, That’s not in and of itself suspicious. But we now have proof you’ve been in our systems.”

Q took a shaky sip. He felt the desperate need to turn cat and kitten-cry until James swept him into his jacket, but that wasn’t happening. For all of M’s earlier reassurances, having his life laid on the table was terrifying. Even having James in the same building would have been a comfort. “What are you going to do with me?”

“That depends,” M said. “We have yet to trace your natural family.”

Q shut his eyes, screwing his face up and trying frantically to think about something, anything else. “Don’t look, don’t listen, please stay out,” he pleaded. “I haven’t seen them in so long, I don’t have anything to do with them, just let them stay lost.”

“Drink your tea, Q Boothroyd,” M ordered. Q took a shaky gulp, then another. “I’m restricting myself to an empathic read right now, which is enough to know you’re telling the truth. If you ever do re-establish contact, or of for some other reason your natural family becomes relevant, I expect you to tell me. Is that understood?”

Q nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” M sat back. “However, I would recommend you tell Mr Bond and Mr Trevelyan at least some of this. If nothing else, they’ll get suspicious if and when they meet the Quartermaster. It’ll be easier of they have some advance notice.”

Q nodded. “I’ll take that under advisement. Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“No, there’s also the matter of a civilian being far too involved in MI6 activity,” M said sternly. “As you appear unable to stop being involved, we’ll have to do something about the other part of that description.”

“Ma’am?” Q asked, not following.

M pulled out and opened another file. “You’re studying a double masters in computer and electrical engineering, while taking extra modules in mechanical engineering and mathematics. You’re at the limit of your student loan, and most of your maintenance grant is going on your extra modules and computing equipment. I’m offering to fund your studies, and you work for us when you graduate. If you wish to continue studying afterwards, we can arrange for something part-time. I’d also like you to do an internship after this years’ exams to bolster our computer defences. Putting you on the payroll will give you a security clearance, legitimise Band and Trevelyan’s information leaks, and we can even allow you to accompany them on their advanced courses in mountaineering, water sports and various other foreign trips.”

Q blinked, and tried to parse all that information. “So…you want to pay for my education, give me more time with James and Alec, and let me make you the best firewalls in existence, and in return, you want to give me my dream job?”

M closed the file. “I’ll work you to the bone.”

Q smiled. “Deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

** How to Face Your Past **

** Chapter 2 **

 

Q had an assignment due the day before the end of term, and so missed flying out to the Alps with the senior Omega-Class trainees. He didn’t actually mind too much, as that allowed him to book a sleeper train instead. He was not fond of planes.

The senior trainees were having a three-week intense course in winter sports and mountaineering, including skiing, snowboarding, driving snowmobiles and rock-climbing. Maybe none of them would ever need such skills, or perhaps they’d all die on their first missions without it. And so, this was included in training.

MI6 had a training camp next to a village with four different ski lodges. In fact, said camp looked rather like another ski lodge itself. Enough so that there seemed to be no suspicions as Q took a taxi from the Alpine Railway station to the camp.

He sat down on a bench by the lodge’s door, dropping his bag at his feet and just relaxing. It was beautiful; blue skies, white snow, dark trees. It was cold, but Q was bundled up in enough layers to make him feel like a walking marshmallow. All the trainees appeared to be away right now, but James and Alec knew when he was due to arrive.

He was just starting to doze when some movement caught his eye. Two people were coming down the piste at speed. He watched, and as they approached, they resolved into James, on skis, and Alec, on a snowboard.

Q stood, and scampered through the snow to meet them. The two trainee agents seemed to be racing – knowing them, they probably were. As they approached, Alec jumped, and shifted into a raven. His abandoned board slid on disregarded as the bird returned to human, and enveloped Q in a bear-hug.

“That’s cheating,” James called out, but with a hint of laughter. He swept to a stop, and joined the hug.

“Miss me?” Q asked, grinning.

“Always, Q”, James said.

“Just not the same without you,” Alec added.

“Let’s get inside,” James suggested. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share a bedroom with us.”

Q raised an eyebrow. “Have you pushed the beds together yet? Or are you pretending you’re more comfortable sleeping alone?”

“Oh, we rearranged straight away,” Alec reassured him. “And there’s enough space for you whether you want to stay human, or turn fuzzy.”

Q smiled. It was…comforting, to be constantly reminded how accepting they were of his preference to sleep with them in feline form. His Gift-mastering lessons hadn’t changed the fact he still felt less awkward bed-sharing as a cat.

It was just about perfect to be with James and Alec.

 

* * *

 

 

James, Alec and Q sat out on the patio after dinner, sipping hot chocolate and toasting marshmallows on Alec’s fingers. “So we’ve been signed off on skiing, in all forms, snowboarding, and tobogganing,” James explained. “Most of the others need instruction or practise in one or more area, and we’ve been given a whole week to work on it.”

“That means, we have the rest of the week off,” Alec clarified. He wriggled his fingers under his skewered marshmallow, and created a small jet of flame to toast the treat. Then he reached out, and did the same to Q’s.

“We were thinking, we could take you up the slopes and teach you to ski,” James offered. “Snowboarding is harder, but it does feel more…freeing. Tobogganing is easiest, but rather limiting.”

“That sounds lovely,” Q smiled. “Start with the toboggan?”

“Makes sense,” Alec nodded. “We were given a variety of things we could use for improvised toboggans, but there’s a couple of proper ones we can borrow.”

“How did you two get so good?” Q asked.

Alec’s little candle-flame, toasting James’ marshmallow, sputtered and turned into something more like a blowtorch, melting the ‘mallow completely and causing James to curse.

“That’s…rather a long story, Q,” James said gently. “It’s very…personal.”

“If you don’t feel comfortable telling me-”Q started saying.

“No, no; it’s not that,” James hedged. He took a deep breath. “You have the right to know. We probably should have told you some of it already.”

“It’s hard for us to talk about,” Alec explained. “But yes, you should know.”

“It can wait, if you’re not ready,” Q offered.

“Tonight’s as good a time as any,” James said. “If we put it off, we might just chicken out.”

“I’ll start,” Alec said, abruptly. He put aside the bag of marshmallows, and cradled his hot chocolate instead. He took a deep breath, and started.

“I’m Russian, by birth and initial upbringing,” he opened. “I’ve trained myself to have an English accent, and to avoid slipping into Russian verbally, but it’s still there, beneath the surface. When it was just me and James, it would come out occasionally. When you started hanging around, I started being more careful. It’s probably best for a spy to not slip, anyway.

“My family were Don Cossacks. They served the Tsar, as his loyal warriors, in exchanged for a greater degree of independence than most citizens of the Tsarist Empire enjoyed. Then came the First World War, and the Revolution. The Cossacks stayed loyal to the Tsar, and were one of the core units of the White Army. But the Whites lost, and many Cossacks fled. Those who remained lost their land and property, their freedom, and in many cases their lives.

“In the Second World War, units of Cossacks fought with the Germans against the Soviets. Then, in the Yalta conference, Churchill and Roosevelt agreed to repatriate all Cossacks, not just the fighting men, but the women and the children. Most were executed in short order. Many who survived were sent to Siberia.

“Then Stalin died. As part of destalinization, the gulags were shut down, and the remaining Cossacks were freed. Among those, were my grandmothers, and my parents.

“Both my grandfathers died at the time of the repatriations. My parents were both infants when it happened, and were approaching adolescence when they were freed. They tried to rebuild their lives, met and married each other, and were well on in years before I was born. I think I was born in 1985, but honestly, I’m not certain.

“When the Soviet Union collapsed, the KGB tried to liquidate some of their old enemies. The Cossacks were marked for death. At least, that’s what my father believed. He started jumping and starting at everything, becoming increasingly paranoid. One night, I woke up to my mother screaming. My father had decided not to wait for the killing squads. He cut my mother’s throat, as I looked on. Then he turned to me, still holding the knife. I turned and ran. That was the last time I saw him. He probably killed himself, or was executed.

“I ran for hours. I was afraid of my father, afraid of the KGB, the police, the army, anyone who might turn me in. I kept moving, for days, weeks, months. I ate whatever I could get my hands on, from stealing from market stalls to chewing leaves to sate the hunger. I hitched rides on trains, heading west, because the KGB couldn’t kill me for being a Cossack in the West.

“I don’t know how, but I ended up in the Alps. I don’t really remember much. I think I was freezing to death in the snow, unable to run any more. Then someone found me. He was a mountaineer, called Hannes Oberhauser, from Switzerland. He got me medical attention, and when I said my parents were dead and I had no family, and I didn’t want to go home, he fostered me. He had a son already, Franz. He was patient, and kind, and I was still so very scared, and I covered it up by lashing out in anger all the time. But still, Hannes cared for me, and taught me German, and got me back on my feet.”

James reached out and grasped Alec’s hand. Q stared at his friend. “Alec…I’m so…”

“Don’t,” Alec interrupted. “Please. I don’t need pity. I’m good now.”

“That’s not the end of it either,” James continued. “Hannes Oberhauser was a very close friend of my parents. He grew up with my mother, the son of the housekeeper, and actually it was rumoured his father was my grandfather. He was an empathy, and that kind of mental Gift ran in the Delacroix family – my mother’s family.

“My parents died in a climbing accident when I was six years old. My father had an uncle, and an aunt, but neither were in much of a position to take in a six-year-old. So, my mother’s nominated guardian took me in. Hannes.

“That’s when I met Alec. He was seven, more or less, and had been with the Oberhausers for about a year by then. Franz was nearly eight. Alec, as he said, was fiery. And I was…cold. It was about two weeks after I moved in that we exploded at each other. I wanted to be left alone to sulk, Alec was afraid I didn’t like him and got angry that I seemed to be avoiding him. In the end, we were screaming at each other in English and Russian respectively, and neither of us had a clue what the other was saying. We both realised how ridiculous it was, started giggling, and that was that, really. I taught him English, he taught me Russia. He could make me feel less empty, I could keep him calm.

“We were both rather prickly in our own ways with other people, except Hannes. We never really got on with Franz, I don’t know why. It was Hannes who taught us to ski, snowboard, skate, rock climb. We had each other, and Hannes, and that seemed the most important thing.

“Then, Franz and Hannes went on a climbing trip together, just the two of them, for Franz’s thirteenth birthday. There was an avalanche. Hannes’ body was found, Franz’s never was. We were devastated. Alec had absolutely no-one, and I couldn’t bear to leave him. Hannes hadn’t designated a guardian for us, Alec had no-one, and I had one great-uncle with cancer and one elderly great-aunt.

“Aunt Charmian agreed to take me in, but used my parents’ estate to send me to boarding school. Alec was going to go to an orphanage in Switzerland, but I fought to not be separated from him. Charmian gave in, and we were both sent to Eton. Same year, even though Alec’s a year older. Uncle Max died a year later, leaving me the Aston Martin. I got kicked out of Eton, we finished our schooling at Fettes College. Charmian died our first year at university. A month or so after that, I developed my telepathy, and MI6 got into contact. Alec started shifting a year later. Then you started fixing our laptops, and you know the rest.”

Q stared at his two beloved spies. “That’s…awful,” he said. “I know you said no pity, but…”

Alec reached out and pulled Q into a hug. “We’re happy now, with you. We’ve been coping so far. Just…don’t leave us.”

James wrapped his arms around both shifters. “That’s why we have problems letting people in,” he explained. “But you snuck into our hearts, so treat them nicely?”

Q settled himself in their embrace. “Of course I won’t leave you. Of course I’ll treat your hearts nicely,” he said. “But…”

James stiffened. “But?”

“There’s…things in my past,” Q admitted. “You should know. But I don’t like even thinking of it.”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, you don’t have to,” Alec comforted him.

“I think we’ve rattle enough skeletons in closets for one night anyway,” James said lightly.

“Thank you,” Q said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

“Then let’s just go to bed,” Ale suggested. “Anyone mind feathers?”

“Just keep your beak to yourself,” Q joked.


	3. Chapter 3

** How To Face Your Past **

** Chapter 3 **

 

James sat in M’s office with a laptop on his knee. It was showing a video of two men fighting. They fought, and the video repeated from different angles, slowing down in places, focusing on seemingly unimportant details.

James watched, and rewatched, repeating certain bits, trying to see what M wanted him to notice.

Then he got it.

“The man is green is reacting fractionally before the man in black makes his move,” he announced.

M put down her paperwork. “The one in green is a telepath.”

“He’s reading the other’s mind to know what the next strike is,” James reasoned.

“Correct,” M nodded. “This technique is deeper than the surface-scan, but not too deep.”

James nodded. He was getting good at the surface scan, but needed time and focus for a deeper mental search. “I suppose it’s complicated by the fact I’m trying not to get punched in the face at the same time?”

“The combat also acts as a focus,” M explained. “Combat-reading is not only a very useful technique in itself, it’s also a good bridge to the quick-and-dirty interrogation read.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Considering I’m also getting better at general mind-reading, is a bridge really necessary?”

“It’s for reading enemies,” M explained. “That’s different from reading friends, acquaintances, or strangers.”

James frowned. “Our Gifts are dependent on who we’re using them on?”

M wiggled a hand in the air. “Because it’s a mental Gift, our opinions and beliefs influence our ability quite a lot. Technically, reading an enemy agent trying to bash your brains out is no different from reading your young Mr Boothroyd. But it feels different, so the Gift responds differently.” She thought for a moment, then continued. “Although, considering your me-against-the-world attitude, you may not find it that different from reading strangers.”

James grunted. It had taken many Gift-tutoring sessions before M worked out that James had a subconscious fear that in reading someone, he’d be opening himself up to be read – he was so good at reading Alec and Q, because he did not mind much if they read him back. And James didn’t really trust anyone else with much at all. Getting over that mental block was a work in progress.

“So,” M continued. “Go talk to the unarmed combat instructors. I want you to have at least three spars every day you’re in headquarters until you get the feel for it. Then we’ll see about finding an opportunity to practise with someone who isn’t a colleague. Come back to me if you’re having problems. Dismissed.”

James stood. He liked the look of the technique, but honestly, just go try it out? Bit vague as instructions go.

“ _Dismissed_ , Mr Bond.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Very well done, Trevelyan.”

Alec flicked his hand, an affectation he’d developed when igniting or extinguishing a full ball of flames. The physical ticks helped him focus on exactly how he wanted his conjured fire to come out. Wiggling fingers brought a tame little flame, and a finger-click directed a jet of flame. Trying to control fire in raven-form was more difficult, and for some reason MI6 hadn’t managed to find a Gift tutor to teach him to control two Gifts at once.

“Well, you’re already exceeding Rodriguez’ expertise,” the tutor said approvingly. “Possibly you gained a subconscious control with the Gift, or maybe already honing your shifting transferred over. Could even be a bit of both.”

Alec grinned. “Could just be ‘cause I’m naturally good at fire,” he suggested.

“Also possible,” the tutor conceded. “Now, remember last month we covered manifesting just the light, or just the heat of the flames?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Alec said. As a pyromancer, he automatically had a resistance to high temperatures – much as Gregory Hind the cryomancer had a resistance to low temperatures. But producing heat without the give-away light, or light without the dangerous heat, was a useful talent. And a little ego-boosting to master, as Tiago Rodriguez had still been working on it.

Alec held out both hands. He carefully filled his right with light, and left with heat. He held the two different energies for several minutes, then his control slipped and both hands filled with flames. He shook them the put out the fire.

“Yes, that’s very good,” the tutor nodded. “Today, I’m introducing you to a combat technique. Essentially, you fill your hands with heat, and push it into your opponent when you hit them. Ideally, you can do this with such subtlety that there are no external burns to give away what you did, but you still cause a lot more damage with each blow. And of course, with more training you can channel the heat through your feet, knees, elbows, head, whatever you’re using to hit someone. If you time it right, you could even channel extra heat through your body to burn the person hitting you. But I’ve never heard of anyone successfully pulling that one off outside of test conditions.”

“Sounds great,” Alec smirked. “How do we know how I’m doing?”

The tutor patted a new mannequin. “This is full of temperature probes at different depths. There’s various target areas, but you’re just going to use simple punches for now. Then we’ll pull the data, and see which probes you’re triggering.”

Alec interlocked his fingers and cricked them. “Simple punches, infused with extra heat, coming right up.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Q had a spare laptop open on the kitchen table. He examined the motherboard. His eyes couldn’t see the fault.

A technomancer should be able to run a current through the circuitry and sense any faults, and know exactly how to fix them.

Q pressed a finger against the circuit, and mentally reached into it.

It was a sensation unlike any he’d ever experienced before. He could feel wires and resistors and capacitors and all the other components. It was like another organ, flooding his brain with information.

He pulled his finger away, shutting off the data overload. Maybe he should use something simpler than a laptop motherboard to learn this.

Maybe he should just admit to MI6 that he’d gained the Gift, and ask for a Gift tutor. After all, the shifting tutor they gave him had been so much better than the one assigned to him by his university. But that would raise the question of why he hadn’t told them earlier.

But maybe MI6 would just _use_ him.

But they were already employing him, a good job with good compensation. Would admitting his true capabilities change that?

“Q, we’re home!”

Q jerked his head up. He hadn’t noticed how late it had got.

“Q?”

James came up and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay? You’re feeling…conflicted.”

Q took a deep breath. Whatever else he did, he had to tell them.

“James, I have something to tell you and Alec.”

The raven pyromancer appeared the moment his name was said. “What’s wrong?”

Q reached out to his main laptop, still whole and sitting idle. He laid his hand on the keyboard, and the screen lit up. His mind guiding the programs, he started running text across the screen.

“I’m a technomancer now.”


	4. Chapter 4

** How To Face Your Past **

** Chapter 4 **

 

“Are you packed, Q?”

Q nudged his suitcase with his toe. “Mostly,” he mumbled.

Alec came over and picked up the case. “Don’t worry, little kitten,” he said gently.

“Just say kotenok, Alec,” James called out. “I know you want to.”

“Kotenok,” Alec repeated, his voice taking on the Russian burr of his natural accent.

Q smiled at him. “I like it when you speak Russian,” he admitted. “It reminds me that you trust me, that I’m important to you.”

Alec grinned, and gave Q a quick hug. James was naturally less expressive, and didn’t need people to vocalise their feelings anyway. Alec, on the other hand, favoured blunt declarations.

James came out of the shared bedroom, carrying his and Alec’s cases. “You’re stalling, Q,” he said gently. “And upset. What’s wrong?”

Q sighed. “I’m…kinda scared of planes, I think,” he admitted. “They remind me of things I try to forget. Bad things. In my past.”

James put the cases by the door, and Alec put Q’s next to them. With just a look, they moved in concert to wrap Q securely in their arms and pull him onto the sofa with them.

“We have an hour before we have to leave,” James said gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Q shivered. “I don’t like to _think_ about it,” he mumbled.

“Please, Q, it really does help to share these things,” Alec coaxed. “If you can’t tell us everything, maybe just something?”

“You’re scared of your past,” James murmured. “Do you think we won’t care for you if we know it? That’s irrational, but we all have irrational thoughts. Why not trust us with a little thing, so you feel comfortable telling us the big things later?”

Q huffed. “I thought it was Alec who studied psychology,” he said accusingly.

“Well, yes,” James, who’d actually graduated in Oriental Languages, agreed. “But you pick up a lot of this sort of thing with my Gift.”

Q huffed, but it was sound. And M had been right when she told him he needed to come clean to James and Alec.

“There’s two really important things,” he said. “The first…not now. The second…” He took a deep breath, and began.

“The second is how I grew up,” Q explained. “When I was six I left home – I don’t want to think about that. I had good reason to believe that I would not be looked for – and I was right. When I was some distance away, I went to a police station, said I was on holiday, and lost my parents. I said my name was Peter Llewellyn. No family was ever found, of course. I was taken into care.

“I was fostered fairly quickly, to a family called the Burtons. I…wanted a stable home life, so I convinced them to change my name. I became Desmond Burton. But it didn’t last. After a few years, I ended up in a care home, just in time to start secondary school.

“I was properly introduced to computers at secondary school. I loved them so much. I found any excuse to earn more pocket money, saved up, and got my first computer when I was fourteen. In a matter of months, I was hacking all over the place. I even hacked the Pentagon.

“Then I hacked MI6. And when I was poking around in their servers, I found out about the Technical Support Service, colloquially known as Q-Branch. The head of the department is the Quartermaster, codenamed Q.”

At that, James and Alec both started. Q smiled sadly, wondering if this would be enough to lose them. “Yes, I did intentionally choose my name for the nickname. And Boothroyd is the surname of the current Quartermaster. I signed off the deed poll myself when I turned sixteen. I decided I wanted to be the Quartermaster. My plan was to back off from the hacking, prove myself with academic qualifications and research, then leave my CV on their servers. The last time I hacked MI6, before we went after the Gift-thief, was probably around the time you two joined.”

Alec whistled. “Hell, boff.”

James agreed. “That’s incredible.”

Q looked up shyly. “You don’t mind?”

“That you grew up in care, or are even more brilliant than we already knew?” James asked rhetorically.

“That I…have a sort of history with MI6 already,” Q mumbled. “M said I should tell you before you met the Quartermaster and got suspicious.”

“It’s fine, Q, honestly,” Alec said. “It’s a bit of a surprise, that’s all.”

“Of course we don’t mind,” James reassured him.

Q hugged James briefly, then Alec. “Not much to say after that,” he finished. “Went straight to Uni, expected to be a late-bloomer, then I turned into a cat and ended up in the road. You’ve been with me for all the rest.” He took the hands of his two spies. “And it’s the rest that’s the most important to me.”

“See? Nothing to be scared of,” James said reassuringly. “Now, let’s get our carry-on bags. When we get on the plane, you can turn into a cat and sleep the whole journey.”

Q chuckled. “It’s nearly ten hours, James. Even cats don’t sleep that long at a stretch.”

“You never know,” Alec joked. “You could set a record.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kingston, Jamaica, was hot. Impossibly hot, it seemed. Q’s thick fur coat wasn’t helping, but he couldn’t bear the thought of turning human again.

This caused a little fuss at Passport Control, who generally found it easier to check the identities of people in the same shape as their photo. Q woke up just long enough to be grateful that Alec had given him a gag gift at Christmas of a pet passport for himself. Then he went back to sleep, curled around James’ neck like a scarf.

He was woken, and prodded until he stayed awake, when they arrived at a beach hostel. This was not the budget holiday location it initially appeared, but another MI6 training facility, for such things as scuba-diving, wind-surfing, and assorted forms of mucking about in boats. This time James and Alec did not have a head start on their fellow trainees, but Q was looking forward to watching them fall off surf boards and other hilarious mishaps.

“Q, you’ll have to shift back now,” James coaxed. “You can change into your shorts and spend the afternoon lazing on the beach, and having a bit of a swim when you get too hot.”

Q grumbled, but stretched out on the bed. Mid-stretch, his limbs lengthened and lost their fur.

“There’s our little boffin,” Alec grinned.

“Too hot,” Q grumbled, but he peeled himself off the sheets anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“My natural family is…different.”

Q announced this during another late evening supper. They’d built a small campfire out of driftwood, the salts occasionally sparking different colours. The stars winked above them, and the waves lapped at the shore a few metres away.

“What do you want to tell us about your natural family, Q?” James asked.

Q felt a flash of gratitude for James’ openness, without forcing confession. It made it so much easier to let the painful story slip out.

Alec, picking up on Q’s discomfort, shifted into his raven-form, and hopped into Q’s lap. Q gently ran his fingers through the soft feathers.

“My parents were normal, more or less,” he started. “Both shifters. My mother was a mouse, and my father a bat. I don’t think they shifted terribly much.

“I was the youngest of four. Two older brothers, and a twin sister. They – _we_ – are all…clever, in a sharp, antisocial sort of way. Mycroft, my eldest brother, he has a skill knowing how to get things done. He could, and does, manipulate the world. Sherlock, he observes and deduces _everything_. But he could never predict how people would react emotionally. Sometimes I miss them.

“My sister, Eurus, is very different even from my brothers. She’s a complete psychopath. But so very, very clever. She tormented me. Day in, day out. Night in, night out. One…trick in particular, she’d whisper to me in my sleep. Make me believe I was in a crashing plane. Eventually, I couldn’t bear it. I found places to hide. I would sleep under my parents’ bed, because she wouldn’t bother me there. I never even dared to come out for meals; I’d wait until everyone had finished and gone about their day before sneaking out for leftovers.

“Eurus moved on to Sherlock. Sherlock’s only a few years older than us. His best friend was the neighbour’s boy, Victor Trevor. Their favourite game was Pirates. Eurus would try to butt in on the games, but Sherlock…I don’t know if part of him recognised what she’d done to me, or if he just didn’t want a little sister tagging along, but he shut her out. One day, Victor didn’t come out to play. Sherlock was devastated, and Eurus started singing nonsense songs, dropping hints about ‘Drowned Redbeard’ – that was Victor’s pirate name.

“One night, Uncle Rudy came to our house. I was hiding, and heard his conversation with my parents. He worked in the government in some capacity, and Mycroft had told him all about Eurus. He was certain Eurus had tricked Victor into an old well near the house and killed him. Rudy wanted to take Eurus away to some sort of secure mental hospital, a place called Sherrinford. My parents didn’t believe Rudy and Mycroft. They’d never believed me when I told them about Eurus tormenting me, after all. They argued.

“I wasn’t the only one listening in. At some point, Eurus heard what was happening. She set the house on fire, and tried to escape. It was chaos. There were men surrounding the place, with guns, and night-vision. I hid in the well, clinging on just below the edge, wondering all the time if there were going to be two bodies down under the water. Knowing Eurus killed Victor – because I never doubted for a moment Mycroft was right about that – made me fear for my own life. I don’t know if she would have killed me if I hadn’t hid and run. The thought still terrifies me.”

Q paused for a few moments. He wet his lips, and sipped his glass of juice. He didn’t dare look over at James, and his hand had long since stilled in Alec’s feathers.

“You know what I did after that,” he said finally. “When I was twelve, I managed to find death certificates for both me and Eurus, saying we died in the fire. When I was seventeen, I found out that Eurus was actually captured and taken to Sherrinford. But as far as I know, everyone in my family believes I did indeed die. I considered trying to contact Mycroft or Sherlock, but…part of me still fears Eurus too much.”

Q fell silent. Alec fluttered under his fingers, and Q withdrew his hand from the raven. James reached out, and Q instinctively flinched away.

“Q, what was your name?” James asked gently.

“Aster,” Q responded. “Aster Holmes.”

Abruptly he felt the need to be alone. He moved Alec onto James’ lap, still avoiding eye-contact, and stood. “I need sleep,” he mumbled. “Good night.”

“Q-” James called after him, but he ignored him. A moment later, a small cat was trotting away across the sand.


	5. Chapter 5

** How To Face Your Past **

** Chapter 5 **

 

One year before the end of the senior training program, trainees met with their overseer to discuss their options. Alec slouched against James in the training overseers’ outer office while the rest of the Omega trainees had their consultations, waiting for their turn.

Gregory Hind left the office, saw Alec and James, and sat down next to them. “I’ll be going on rotation around some of the foreign stations,” he said quietly. “After that, I might try a short stint in the Special Forces. Saul’s doing the same.”

“Sounds good,” Alec grinned. “You happy?”

“I think I am, yeah,” Gregory smiled. “Looking forward to expanding my horizons a little.”

“But active field duty?” James asked.

“What else?” Gregory asked rhetorically.

“I think about two thirds of the class are going for alternatives,” James murmured. “I’m not reading terribly deep, but that’s the impression I’m getting.”

“Saul and I are definitely going for field duty,” Gregory said firmly.

“And I do believe James and I feel the same way,” Alec replied.

Tanner’s office door opened, and Barrette came out. James got a certain distant look in his eyes, then smirked. “Desk job abroad somewhere,” he whispered.

Gregory shook his head. “You really shouldn’t do that.”

James grinned, about to begin a friendly riposte, when Tanner called. “Bond, Trevelyan!”

Alec and James stood simultaneously, smoothly, with the economy of movement they’d been taught and drilled in. They were about to enter the office, but Tanner held up a hand to stop them. “Upstairs. M wants to cover this.”

Alec frowned, but James just nodded. “Now?”

“Just head on up,” Tanner shrugged.

“Sure,” Alec mumbled.

James led the way up to M, having been to see her so many more times. Her secretary just waved them in.

“You wished to conduct our review, Ma’am?” James asked.

“Something like that. Sit.” She pointed to her visitors’ chairs, and put down her pen.

“We’d like to go into field work,” Alec said, trying to get over the awkwardness of having a training review conducted by the _Head of MI6_ , even if she was his partner’s mentor.

“I gather that,” M said dryly. She pulled out two stacks of paperwork. “You have two options. This one, which will see you assigned jointly to various stations and taskforces for the foreseeable future, or that one, which will split you up, one into the army, one into the navy, then terms in the SAS and SBS before coming back here.”

James blinked, and Alec gaped. They both regained their composure quickly. “What’s with the two options?” Alec asked. “It seems a little odd that you’re coming up with two completely different ideas before even talking to us.”

“And what’s Q got to do with it?” James asked. Alec flicked a glance at the telepath, but couldn’t work out what he’d picked up.

M steepled her fingers. “You two, and young Mr Boothroyd, appear to have developed a level of co-dependency,” she explained. “Now, that’s not going to disqualify you from positions in the Service, but it is going to affect what you’re suited to. If you choose the first option, we will have to assume all round that you either are co-dependent, or simply don’t want to be separated. You will still have plenty of opportunities, but you won’t progress so far through the ranks if we can’t be sure you won’t lose it if you’re separated. Option two will have you spending extended periods of time away from each other, as well as being extremely good for a field agent. A number of agents either come from the forces, or are sent there for a period. This program will give you a year to qualify as officers, six years moving around various divisions of your respective Services, another year training in the Special Forces, and four years in the Special Forces. Then you’ll be seconded back to me. We normally send several agents every year on this program.”

“Twelve years in the forces,” Alec mused. It wasn’t a bad idea. MI6 had given him a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging, and the army and navy were known to do the same. If he had not had James, and had not been brought into MI6 with him, he most likely would have enlisted himself already.

But he had James, and he had Q.

“I take it we’ll still have the standard leave and so on,” said James.

“Of course,” M said. “You might be given extra assignments, but nothing too much. And if you decide you prefer soldiering, or sailing, we can arrange for you to transfer onto a regular career.”

“And Q?” James asked.

M gave him a hard stare. “Obviously, his future and career are between him and the Quartermaster,” she said coolly. “But for as long as he is in my employ, he will have sufficient clearance to maintain uncensored contact. And reasonable leave requests to coincide with yours should be little problem.”

Alec thought about it. He did quite like the idea. “Which of us is going to the army, and which to the navy?” he asked.

“Up to you two,” M shrugged. “I suspect Bond would do better on submarines than you, though.”

James stood up. “I think we need to think this over, discuss it,” he said.

Alec rose as well, backing James up silently.

M nodded, and passed over a few sheets from the top of each stack. “I expect an answer within two weeks, but the sooner the better,” she told them. “Dismissed.

 

* * *

 

 

Q stumped through the door, and collapsed on the sofa. It was coming up to exam season again, and he’d been in the library for hours. He was tired, and stressed, and still had more studying to do.

James came through from the kitchen. “You’re stressing, Q. Calm down. You’ll do fine.”

“But what if I mess up?” Q fretted. “My grades would tank. I might only get a second, maybe even only a 2:2.”

James laughed softly. “You’ll definitely get a first.”

Alec emerged from the shared bedroom. “Besides, you’ve already got your dream job, haven’t you?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean I can stop studying,” Q complained. “I still need good results.” He slumped against the cushions. “They’re all I have to prove myself,” he mumbled.

James was on him like a flash, Alec hovering behind. “You are worth so much more, little kitten,” James reassured him. “You’re smart, you could make computers dance to your whim even before you got technomancy, and you’re so brave.”

“And loyal,” Alec added. “And you never think bad of us, even when we tell you about the brutal things we’re training to do.”

“Why would I think bad of you?” Q asked, confused. “You wouldn’t hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it, and you’re doing it to keep the country safe.”

“It is quite likely that innocents, or allies, will get caught in the crossfire occasionally,” James said seriously. “We can’t guarantee no-one who doesn’t deserve it doesn’t get hurt.”

“Too many negatives,” Alec snorted. “People will get hurt. Sometimes people who shouldn’t be.”

“But you’ll try to stop that, where you can?” Q asked hopefully.

“Where it doesn’t impede the mission,” James hedged.

Alec frowned. “You can be a bit on the callous side, Jamesy.”

Q hummed. “I heard that about you,” he added. “You can be cold. But you’re not cruel.” He reached out and laid a hand on James’ shoulder. “You’re warm with us.”

James squeezed Q’s hand, and exchanged a look with Alec. “Q, there’s something we need to talk about.”

Q sat up and focused. He patted the sofa, inviting Alec to join them. “What is it?”

“M wants us to do a dozen years in the armed forces,” James said bluntly. “It’s a program used frequently to train up agents. We’d be in different forces, and away from you for most of the time.”

Q looked at his lap. “Oh. Um. So…when are you going?”

“Don’t know if we are, yet,” Alec shrugged. “Q, M gave us options. If we don’t want to be separated, there’s alternatives.”

“We can probably even ask to withdraw after the first year, or take a few more years in stations before going to the military,” James suggested. “M’s willing to be flexible.”

Q looked up again. His distaste for being abandoned aside, this was James’ career, Alec’s career, not his. “What do you two want?”

“The hard part would be being away from you, and Alec,” James said briskly. “I like having people I trust completely at my back. But M made a good point. If we can’t manage without each other, will we be much good as field agents?”

“It’s not that we’d leave, and not see you for twelve years,” Alec said, clearly still mulling it over himself. “We’ll have leave, holidays, and we can still email and Skype and stuff.”

“It…sounds like a good opportunity for you,” Q said shakily. He was trying hard to hide the irrational sting of loneliness already setting in.

James caught his hand. “Q, we’d be starting at Dartmouth and Sandhurst in September next year. After you’ve finished your Masters, and started your career in the Technical Support Service. We’d still be in the UK, still able to see you regularly. After that, we’ll see.”

Q closed his eyes and breathed. “If that’s what you want to do, do it,” he said at last. “I know I’m being silly about it. Clingy.”

Alec slung his arm over Q’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we don’t like the idea of leaving either,” he said. “You start in TSS, and next thing you know, you won’t mind so much not having a couple of wild ones cracking their knuckles behind you.”

“I like my wild ones,” Q whined. “You make me feel safe.”

He didn’t add “and loved”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m now planning where to go next. Therefore, I would greatly appreciate any and all feedback - style, content, detail, anything. It’ll all be very welcome.


End file.
